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Hostage

by Viola Black 3 months ago in fetishes

My Prisoner

Hostage
Photo by Tirza van Dijk on Unsplash

"Now, in a few minutes, I'm going to ask you some questions," I said, circling the chair.

"If you don't give me the answers I want, I will punish you. Those punishments will increase in severity with each wrong answer you give."

I stopped in front of the chair, and looked down at my naked captive. Blindfolded, he couldn't be sure where I stood, and his head turned in my vague direction.

"If you understand, nod your head."

His head bobbed up and down. As if in unison, his bulbous, erect cock involuntarily jerked upwards.

"Good," I replied, resuming my circuit once more.

The soft carpet of the bedroom muffled the footsteps of my bare-feet, making it hard for him to visualize where I was. As I walked, I looked at the black rope binding his muscular legs and arms to the chair, visually checking my knot-work was satisfactory, and that escape was impossible.

"Now, the first problem I have is in convincing you that I am as good as my word. If you do not believe that I will punish you, then you have no reason to fear me, or tell me what I want. That is the first obstacle we must overcome. Fortunately, there is an easy solution."

I continued pacing around him. Yes - my constant movement was disconcerting for him. However, it also gave me a chance to further study his impressive physique. A physique I was going to enjoy teasing and torturing.

"Before we even begin the questioning, I have to give you a taste of my repertoire. Once you've sampled it, you will not only have some understanding of my cruelty, and an idea about where I can escalate things to, you will also know that I am deadly serious."

I stopped, but this time behind him. Leaning forward, I put my mouth close to his ear.

"In short, I've got to break you before we actually begin. So, that's what I'm going to do: Break you."

I resumed my walk, but this time I changed direction, and moved around him in a counter-clockwise circle. It was only a small thing, but the brief disorientation would be enough to unsettle him further. He mumbled something, but the ball-gag rendered his words unintelligible.

"And that's the second problem we have to deal with before the interrogation begins in earnest; thanks to that gag, I can't understand a word you say. However, considering that I'm not going to remove it, as that might enable you to call for help, you're going to have to learn to communicate with it in. Again, fortunately, I have a way of teaching you how."

I walked over to the wardrobe in the far corner of the room. I pulled open the mirrored door, and reached towards the bottom of the unit. My fingers found the soles of my read, battered, high-topped Converse. I lifted the sneakers out, closed the door, and slowly walked back towards my prisoner.

"Pain is too much of an obvious starting point," I said, standing directly behind him. "My starting point is less so."

I lent forward, and reaching around him, held the sneaker in front of him.

Instantly he recoiled.

Slowly, I began to move around the chair, so I was directly in front of him.

"Physical hurt is just one form unpleasantness. There are many others, as you are about to find out."

I darted forward, straddling him. I could feel his hard cock against my panties.

With my right hand, I grabbed hold of his hair, holding his head in place. Quickly, before he had a chance to react, I lifted my left hand, and held the inside of the tatty sneaker against his nose.

As expected he struggled, trying to pull his face away from my footwear. However, the last few years of PT had made me strong; I was easily able to both hold his head firm, and tightly push the ancient Converse against him. He writhed, but to no avail. Again, he mumbled an inaudible protest.

"You're tied to this chair, so stop struggling; you can't escape. And, please, shut the fuck up," I ordered. "Plus, the longer you resist, the longer I keep this held here. So sit sill, and be quiet."

He ceased his writhing, and fell quiet.

"Good boy," I said, gently. "Now, sniff."

He tried to shake his head.

"I said sniff. If you do, I'll take it away. But, for that to happen, you've got to sniff first. So, sniff."

As a gentle form of encouragement, I pulled his hair a little tighter. His feeble yelp aroused me.

After a few seconds of silence, I heard him breath in. However, his attempt was lamentable. And that just wouldn't do.

"A big breath in, you pathetic weakling. When I say, sniff, I want you to take a deep fucking breath. Do it!"

This time, he did. His chest expanded as he breathed in my sweaty insoles.

"That's better," I said. "See, you can do it. However, a gentle warning: If I tell you to do something, do it properly. Any more of that halfhearted bullshit, and I'll really fucking hurt you. Okay?"

He nodded his head.

"Excellent. Let the lesson begin."

I lowered the sneaker, but kept tight hold of his hair with my other hand.

"As I said, you're going to have to learn to communicate clearly with that gag in, so - when we get the proper part of the interrogation - you'll be able to tell me what I want without the need for me to remove it. So, you're going to practice your enunciation."

I smiled, savoring the knowledge that this was near impossible. I was telling him to do something, under threat of punishment, that I knew he wouldn't be able to, meaning he was unable to avoid that punishment. The red, ball of the gag was huge, deliberately so; the best he could hope to do was garble incoherently.

I was going to enjoy this.

"You're going to recite the alphabet," I explained. "If you fail to pronounce a word clearly enough, I will you ask to repeat it. If I do not understand your second attempt, I will give you a third. However, if that third try is not to my satisfaction, you will take ten deep breaths of my sneaker. But, for every letter you do need three go's at, I will add another five breaths onto your ordeal. So, let's start: You may begin."

He mumbled something. It bore no resemblance to the letter 'A.'

"Try again."

Again, he tried to speak. Again, gibberish.

"Last attempt."

Strike three: There was no way I could accept that.

"I'm really sorry," I said with mock tenderness. "But that just wasn't good enough."

Quickly, before he could fire off another garbled protest, I lifted the sneaker, and pushed it against his face.

"Now, you know what you have to do," I said, continuing with the pretend kindness. "So, please begin."

I silently counted as his chest inflated, and deflated ten times.

"What was that?" I asked, gently. "You didn't count."

He mumbled something, something that sounded distinctly angry. Good: I was getting to him.

"I was pretty clear," I cooed. I let go off his hair, and began to gently stroke the top of head.

"I did tell you that you had to count each breath aloud," I said, lying. I had told him no such thing. "I'm really sorry, but you didn't do that. And you made a mistake, which means I add another five breaths onto your total."

He repeated his angry, incoherent mumble.

"You have to understand, I really don't want to do this," I said, continuing to stroke his hair lovingly. "I truly wish there was another way."

Almost imperceptibly, I felt his body begin to relax at my apparent affection. It was time to bring an end to that.

Viciously, I grabbed his hair again, pulling it back, and rammed the smelly sneaker back over his nose. His cock hardened even more, and pushed against my pussy.

"So, give me fifteen fucking deep breaths, you useless imbecile," I shouted. "And, this time, make sure I can hear you fucking counting!"

He took a deep breath, exhaled, and then garbled something that I assumed was 'One.'

Deep breath, exhale - 'Two.'

I smiled as he took another thirteen deep breaths of my stinking Converse, inhaling a heady mixture of canvas, rubber, and sweat. It was a crude form of punishment, low-cost but effective.

For the next thirty minutes, I made him recite the alphabet. Admittedly, his pronunciation did get clearer the further he progressed, not that I told him that. And my continual forcing him to smell my sneaker after each letter for increasingly longer periods of time, did not give him the impression he was improving.

"Well," I said after he'd, relatively clearly, finally pronounced 'Z.' "That was pathetic. How many times did you have to sniff my Converse? Twenty-six. Each. And. Every. Time."

I stood, backed away from him. Leaning forward, I put my sneaker over his erect cock.

I walked over the bedside table. I opened a drawer, and removed a roll of thick, black, plastic bondage tape.

"You're not broken. Not yet. We're still not ready for the proper part of the interrogation,” I said, stopping behind him. "And, quite frankly, I still can't understand a fucking thing you say."

I held the bondage tape close to ear, and pulled. The snap as the adhesive tape came apart made him flinch.

"Lean your head back."

He mumbled something; it sounded like, "please" but I was no mood to be generous. Not yet.

"Lean your head back. Now!"

He surrendered, and he slowly bend his neck, and his head lolled backwards. I lent over him, and pushed my Converse firmly down onto his nose.

"Stay still. If that falls off, I will punish you."

I pulled a large strip of the bondage tape free, and, bending forward, began wrapping it around his head, taping the stinking sneaker to his face.

I wound the tape five times around his head. Even if he struggled, and thrashed, he wouldn't be able to dislodge my sneaker. I bit into the tape, and stuck the end down, pushing it firmly against his left cheek.

"Lean your head forward," I said, pushing it back upright. "Keep it there."

I threw the tape onto the bed, and walked over to dresser. Opening the second drawer, I removed a pair of ivory stockings. Turning, and I made my way back to my prisoner.

"Like most men, I know you have a fetish for stockings. However, you're weak and pitiful; I'm not dressing up for you. I've got another use for these," I said, draping one of the stockings over his shoulder. I tingled with pleasure, as the sensation of the nylon made him give a tiny shudder.

Hooking my thumbs into the waistband of my briefs, I lowered my panties, letting them slide down my legs and onto the floor.

"I'm not sure you're going to get the same level of satisfaction from how I'm going to employ them, as you would from salaciously watching me them put them on for you."

I walked around to chair to face him. I bent, and crouched down, kneeling.

"I think it's time I gave some attention to this," I said, flicking the tip of his penis with my forefinger. A hot flush of electricity coursed through me as his entire body flinched.

Reaching forward, I lifted his ball-sac into my fingers of my left hand. Using my right, I began tightly wrapping the stockings around his testicles.

"In a few minutes, I'm going to take advantage of you. But, I'm not going to be gentle."

I pulled the stocking tighter, watching as his balls grew redder. His testicles, bound, I then began tying the stockings around the base of his cock.

"This will help prevent you from cumming too soon, which means I get to abuse you for longer," I said, tying the two ends of the stocking together. "However, it also means I can hurt you just that little bit more if I so choose." I tugged at the knot, savoring his whimper.

Slowly, I stood up, and reached for the stocking I deposited on his shoulder.

"And as for this one..."

I wound the nylon around his neck twice. Holding one end in each hand, I then pulled.

He wriggled, thrashed.

"Stop that now."

Ignoring me, he continued to writhe and jerk.

"Stop!" I repeated, pulling the stocking taut.

His body fell still.

"Good boy," I said.

I straddled the chair, and transferring both ends of the stocking around his neck into my left hand, I reached my right hand down, and firmly took hold of his cock. Inching forward, I maneuvered his dick beneath me, letting it brush against my moist pussy.

I lowered myself onto him, and his big cock filled me.

"How pathetic are you? Letting me use you like this."

I raised my right hand, and took hold of the stocking end again, and pulled.

"Now, I'm going to bounce up and down on your dick for as along as I like. Every time I make a movement, I want to count. If you don't, I'll do this," I said, pulling the stocking tight.

"If you pleasure me adequately, I'll remove the sneaker, and stop strangling you. And the interrogation can begin properly. However, I'm not going to stop until I'm happy. Okay?"

He nodded, once.

"Good."

I straightened my legs, raising myself, and then lowered myself.

He grunted.

"You didn't follow my instructions," I said, pulling the stocking tighter. "Count, you useless sack of shit!"

I lifted myself again, but this time I rammed myself downwards onto him.

"One," came his muffled reply.

Without loosening the stocking, I repeated the action. Slowly upwards, then down with ferocity.

"Two."

"And this is how I break you," I said, ramming myself downwards onto his cock.

As I continued to fuck my bound husband, my thoughts turned to the interrogation that would soon follow.

When he'd first told me of his fantasy, he'd been embarrassed, afraid his kinkiness would offend me. However, perhaps it was something as simple as us just being soul-mates, and perfectly in tune with each other. After all, we'd been in sync with almost every aspect of our lives. It came as to no surprise to me that, when he said he'd like to be interrogated, that it was my destiny to be the one who would carry this out.

"Three," he garbled, and I thrust downwards once more.

And it was even less of shock when I discovered that I loved every delirious second of it.

"Four."

All I had to do was watch out for his ‘safe signal’ - the gag, a part of the role-play we both wanted, rendered a ‘safe word’ redundant. If he wanted me to stop, all he had to do was extend his right index finger and point it downwards.

I’d keep watch for it, but knowing his capacity for pain was impressive, I also knew he was unlikely to accept surrender.

“Five.”

Which meant I probably had all night to torture him.

"Six."

And I hadn't even started yet...

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Viola Black
Viola Black
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